


Lost and found

by KiltyMind



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Moodboard Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:46:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22376674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiltyMind/pseuds/KiltyMind
Summary: While attending a search and rescue callout in the Scottish Highlands, Jamie meets Claire and falls pretty hard for her.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 57
Kudos: 219





	Lost and found

**Author's Note:**

> I will never get over the 20 year separation and all the terrible things that happen to JC. So when I agreed to take part in @IAmNotTrisha's excellent moodboard fic challenge, and saw the beautiful moodboard I had been allocated (thank you @Sabaxoxoxo), I just knew I had to write some fluff.
> 
> Thank you for organising this challenge Trisha and Cheryl @OutlanderLush
> 
> And my most mahoosive thanks to my everso patient and supportive betas @Sabaxoxoxo and @yogini_koo I don't think I would've finished this story without your gentle encouragement. Thank you x a million. 
> 
> This is my first effort at a fic, I'm terrified because I know our fic writers are so bloody talented, but I wrote it so here it is. I hope you like it x

[ ](https://ibb.co/Ntyv3dW)

That November day the sky was a particular shade of blue. The kind of brilliant blue that promises to bathe everything in an ethereal light bringing freezing cold temperatures in its wake. 

Jamie stepped out of his wonky little cottage, the grass beneath his feet crispy and crystalline. The windscreen on his battered Land Rover was shrouded in intricate frost patterns that could easily be mistaken for miniature flowers. He blew on his gloved hands, rubbing them together for warmth, and tucked the escapee auburn curls back under his beanie, yanking it down to cover up as much exposed skin as possible. Scraper in hand, he began the tedious job of clearing away the delicate, frosty flowers while the running engine warmed up the car from within.

Finishing his rounds helping the farmers with the deer feed, Jamie checked on the empty holiday properties and made his way to the office. He sat down with his steaming hot coffee, read his emails and to do list and looked out of the window expectantly. It would snow soon and that always meant that the volunteer members of the Inverness Mountain Rescue Team were on high alert. 

Less than an hour later, he got the call. There had only been a smattering of snow on the estate, but higher up in the hills and munros it would be a different matter. A small walking group had been slowly making their descent when one of them had slipped and injured himself badly. Jamie sprang into action without a second thought, grabbing his coat and bag on the way out.

***

Once they had driven as far as they could, all six of the Inverness Mountain Rescue Team jumped out of their Land Rovers. They walked briskly for half an hour, keen to get to the injured walker as quickly as they could in case the snow fall worsened. Jamie breathed in, silently prayed for his team to be kept safe and gave thanks for this braw landscape. He held a great reverence for the mountains, up here his blood pumped harder and he felt really alive. 

As they neared the scene, Jamie instinctively scanned the site to make a quick visual assessment of the situation. Not the most chaotic of callouts, but then again, he hadn’t seen the injured walker yet. He noted where his team mates were and saw the members of the walking party buzzing around worriedly like a small cloud of midges. And then, he saw _her_. 

She was hovering over the injured climber, looking poised and professional, talking to him in hushed tones to keep him calm. When she turned around, her riotous, dark curls tumbled about the alabaster skin of her face. Jamie breathed in sharply, feeling a little winded, as her eyes struck him and then held his own gaze so easily. Eyes that were the colour of ancient amber, clear and open, promising to share the treasures and secrets that were held within.

Jamie realised his breathing had changed. Always steady and calm, it was now ragged and he couldn’t catch his breath. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening to him, what this feeling was, but he knew he needed to ground himself again if he was to do his job properly. He inhaled deeply for that calming hit of oxygen. Taking the icy blast of mountain air deep into his lungs he scolded himself, muttering under his breath, “calm down lad, get yersel together, there are people here who need ye to be a professional.”

“Jamie, over here.” Murtagh, his team leader, called to him. “This is Claire,” he motioned to the woman who was having quite the effect on Jamie. “Luckily for us and for Peter here, she’s a paramedic when she’s no’ climbing munros. Says Peter has a compound fracture but has managed to stem the bleeding and keep the area immobilised.” 

Murtagh stood up and looked at Jamie, “Now ye’ll need to do yer thing and sort out painkillers and a splint. Then it’s up to the lads to get him back down to the road where the paramedics are waiting.”

Jamie didn’t wait for further instructions, he moved quickly to Murtagh’s side and started unpacking his kit bag. He looked first at Claire, and then at Peter. “Hello, I’m Jamie,” he introduced himself, his pulse racing unexpectedly. Who was this woman? And why did he feel so, so _unhinged_ in her presence?

“Please, be careful of his injured leg,” Claire said firmly, in what Jamie noted was a very English accent, “he’s in agony.” He nodded, trying hard to wrench his eyes away from her. Finding the diamorphine nasal spray, he explained calmly to Peter that his main concern was to keep his injured leg immobile and to make sure he didn’t go into shock. Peter’s face was drained of colour but he was able to speak and he even made a feeble attempt at a joke, both good signs. Jamie squirted the diamorphine into Peter’s nose and worked quickly and carefully to apply a splint and some ice packs to minimise any swelling. 

Murtagh and Jamie worked deftly to get Peter on to the stretcher without jostling him, Jamie felt hot prickles all over his skin and wanted to shed some of his technical layers. Looking up, he noticed Claire observing every move they made, eyes trained like a hawk, brow slightly furrowed, and every thought clear as day on her beautiful face. Jamie had always been driven by a need to do his very best, whether he was on a mountain rescue job or working back at Lallybroch, but today, he felt this more acutely than usual. Today, he wanted to impress Claire too. _Don’t fuck this up lad_ , he willed himself.

With Peter safely on his way, Jamie and Murtagh calmly updated the walking group and began to guide them back down to base. Jamie felt an inexplicable pull towards Claire, as if she was the human equivalent of Earth’s magnetic North and he was the helpless compass being dragged towards her. When they made it back to base, he was overcome by an ineffable sadness at the thought that he might not see her again. Conflicted by his need to remain the consummate professional and the thought of her disappearing from his life as quickly as she had entered it, he panicked momentarily. And then out of nowhere, he was overcome by a bolt of boldness.

“Don’t suppose ye fancy a celebratory dram at the pub wi’ the rest of us do ye?” Jamie asked, trying to remain cool and hoping she couldn’t tell just how desperate he was for her to say yes. “We always go for the one drink after a rescue, to thank whatever benevolent force or entity watches o’er us and keeps us safe. But we often end up staying for a few more,” he chuckled.

Claire didn’t even have to consider the offer, it wasn’t as if she had any where else to be. And she felt pretty powerless to refuse this mountain of a Scotsman with the glint in his eyes. “That would be lovely.” She smiled at him, “As long as I’m not intruding?”

Murtagh sidled up next to them, “intruding? Ye’re practically one of the team now lass!” he said, putting his arm around her as they walked towards the bustling pub.

The pub regulars turned and nodded and carried on with their evenings. The air was humming with conversations and the occasional clink of glasses while the fire blazed in the hearth on one side, dancing flames crackling. Claire instinctively inhaled the woody, smoky smell, God she loved a real fire. And she really loved an old fashioned pub just like this, with beams and crooked walls and slightly squeaky, aged floorboards. 

Jamie walked over to the bar while the others found an empty table close to the fire. “I’ll get this round in,” he said to the group, “I assume yer all fine with a dram of the finest?” Whoops and cheers ensued as Claire walked over to join him at the bar. 

“Thought I might help you carry those,” she smiled.

“Ah that’s kind of ye, lass” Jamie grinned. Why was it that he desperately wanted to find out everything about her? He had so many questions but he hadn’t a clue where to even begin.

“So, is this a full time job then?” she asked as she ran her finger around the top of her whisky glass.

“Och no, I wish it was. I’m just a volunteer with this crew,” he shrugged. “I run my family’s game estate, Lallybroch, in the Cairngorms. We’ve started renting out the old workers’ cottages as holiday homes so we’re trying to build that side of the business too. It’s no’ cheap running a game estate.” He wasn’t sure why he’d added that last part and had to consciously stop himself from rambling because something about this woman made him want to share every tiny detail of his life, every thought and feeling.  
  
She had ordered a round of ales while he was chatting, and looking up at him with a cheeky glint in her eyes, said, “I’m assuming those whiskys will be downed in seconds, so I thought I’d line the next round up.”

He couldn’t explain it, but seeing her smile filled him with a sense of well-being. She reached over to take some of the drinks back to the group and when her hand brushed accidentally over his, his skin prickled again. He felt warmed from within, the slow heat starting from the marrow of his bones, spreading to the very tips of his fingers and toes and even his scalp.

“Aye lass, you might be a Sassenach but ye’ll ha’ no problem fitting in with this rabble,” he chuckled.

“Sassenach? What does that mean?” She asked, one eyebrow raised and curiosity piqued.

“Och, to be honest it’s no’ usually a compliment, it’s a name for an English person and we have a long, oppressed history with ye English aye? But ye ken I mean no disrespect to ye Claire?”

“Oh really?” she said, looking a little affronted. “Well that’s just fine with me you bloody Scot!” she laughed, unable to hold her mock serious expression for long.

Back at the table, their strange little group passed the evening drinking merrily. There was banter and slightly off-key singing and some of them recounted tales of past rescues for Claire’s benefit. It was true what they said about the Scots - they were brilliant storytellers. And Jamie couldn’t help but notice how Claire really held her own, giving as good as she got with her quick wit and lightning fast retorts. He realised then that he was a goner. He was filled with an intense desire to spend more time with her, needed to find out everything he could about this woman who had come into his life without warning.

The two of them gravitated towards each other, the need for proximity tugging away at them as if they had been hooked and reeled in by a fisherman. Over the course of the evening they found themselves deep in conversation more than a few times. It came so easily, like that of two friends who had known each other all their lives. When Claire told him how her parents had died in a car accident when she was five, he started to move closer to her but stopped himself. Unsure of how she would respond, he fought the visceral urge to put his arm around her in a protective embrace. Despite feeling that he wanted - needed - to look after her. To protect her.

She asked him about his family, “I’m sorry if I’m being nosy, it’s just, having had a pretty sad little family unit, I love hearing about other people’s.” He reassured her that he didn't mind at all and told her about his childhood at Lallybroch - helping his parents with the game and any odd jobs around the estate, the days playing and adventuring with his brother and sister amongst the majestic backdrop of the Highlands.

Jamie felt compelled to commit all the tiniest details of her face to memory. The faint crinkles at the edges of her whisky coloured eyes and the way she scrunched her nose slightly when she found something funny. The contours of her plump top lip and the slight dimple in her chin that he wanted so badly to reach out and touch.

Claire had caught his furtive glances a few times and felt the warmth creeping up around her cheeks and ears. God this man, so humble and funny. This handsome Scot with the copper curls and smiling eyes. And the long, muscular lines of his body which even his bulky winter kit couldn’t disguise.

As the night drew to an end, Jamie was aware that this whirlwind of a woman had caused some sort of seismic shift in his life. Bolstered by a considerable dose of Dutch Courage, he asked Claire if they could swap numbers. “We might need to ask you a few follow up questions for our report, ye ken?” he said, not sure if he was convincing her at all. “It’s no’ a big deal, there might be a few extra details we need to confirm with ye.” She smiled as he tapped the digits into his phone, relieved that at least now he had some way to contact her. He tried to convince himself that this was a practical move, that they might actually need more information from her at some point, but in reality he knew that he just couldn’t let her leave without some small promise of seeing her again.

“Aye, and ye never know when we might need a volunteer paramedic,’” Murtagh’s gruff voice teased from across the room, one eyebrow cocked knowingly at Jamie.

***

A few days later, after hours of agonising and picking up and putting down his phone, Jamie plucked up the courage to call Claire. She had been wandering into his thoughts whenever he tried to concentrate on work. Claire with her sunshine eyes and pearly skin, and her beautiful peals of laughter which wreaked havoc on any productivity he had hoped to have. 

When she answered, Jamie told her that he was following up with an update on Peter’s progress and was heartened because she sounded pleased to hear from him. Just hearing her talk and laugh caused the gentle fluttering of the myriad butterflies taking flight in his gut. 

They talked about their weeks and once again the conversation flowed easily. And then Jamie stopped mid sentence, his voice trailing off.

“Jamie? Are you okay?” Claire asked worriedly.

“What? Oh, uh, aye lass, I’m fine. It’s just well, Claire? I need t’ be honest with ye. And I need to tell you that I hav’na stopped thinking about ye since the day we met,” he blurted out.

“In fact,” he continued, a little unsure of himself, “I have a confession to make. I, uh, well, I didna need your number for the report, I made that up. I just wasna ready for you to disappear, and I wanted to know that there might be a small chance that I would see you again.”

“Well Jamie, that’s lovely and believe me I’m flattered, but I already knew you didn’t need to call me for a follow up on the report because Murtagh had already been through the whole process with me and told me I wouldn’t be needed again,” she couldn't help but laugh.

“Och, is that so? Well I feel like a right old numpty now,” he said grinning but relieved that his subterfuge was out in the open.

“But seriously Claire,” his voice was softer and more thoughtful, “maybe I’m no’ making much sense but I feel as though as I’ve had a bit of an epiphany and I dinna ken what it is between us or even what is going to happen next, but I have to find out, ye ken?” His tone was hopeful and she couldn’t bear to leave him hanging like this.

“Yes I do Jamie,” she said quietly. “I feel it too.”

***

After that initial phone call, they spent most nights on the phone. They would chat into the small hours of the morning, finding out everything they could about each other until they started to yawn and it became a struggle to keep their eyes open. They would reluctantly agree to finish the call, promising to speak again the following night.

No subject was left unturned, such was their ease with each other. When Claire told him about an ex-boyfriend who had treated her badly, Jamie had felt his fists clench involuntarily while his lips pursed in a quiet but seething rage. And god, how his heart broke for her, when he imagined her as that small, scared lass as she talked in more detail about her parents’ untimely death. But no matter what they talked about, he always found himself in awe of this amazing woman. She was so strong, had such resolve, and whatever happened in her life, she never seemed to feel sorry for herself. 

The phone calls soon turned into date nights and weekends together and before long they found themselves spending every possible moment with each other. Their shared love of the outdoors and the Highlands made it an easy decision for Claire to drive up from Glasgow every Friday evening but it was always such a wrench when she had to return home on Sunday. 

The week would drag on but then on Friday she’d jump in her car and drive back up to Lallybroch. They’d bundle together in a blanket on the sofa with an Indian takeaway and a bottle or two of red wine. Taking it in turns to choose a favourite film to share with the other for a quiet, cosy night in. 

On Saturdays they would wake up at the crack of dawn, grab their walking kit and camping gear and hit the north coast road on a mini adventure. Stopping on the roadside along the way they’d fire up the kelly kettle to make coffee, spreading their maps out on the car bonnet to make sure they were on course. They would take in the views for a few minutes, and then get on their way.

They stayed in sweet little bothies in the middle of nowhere, sheltered by the majestic munros. The bothies were sparse and there were no creature comforts, but Jamie had become quite the expert at one-pot, camping stove cooking. Claire was a self-confessed culinary dullard and made up for her inability to cook by making endless cups of coffee and ensuring they had plenty of snacks. 

Hiking for miles, they reached peaks which rewarded them with awe-inspiring views. Landscapes that sprawled out for miles, swathed in clouds of frothy, purple heather, peppered with glistening lochs and pine forests. Sometimes Claire could swear she could see all the way to England, Jamie laughing and making fun of her. They’d walk some more, stopping only to take photos of the landscapes or to gobble down their picnic lunch, every step of their hike rewarded by even the most humble of sandwiches.

When at last they made it back to the bothy, Claire would set about lighting the fire while Jamie cooked something delicious for dinner. Afterwards they would sit outside, enveloped in blankets, nursing a dram of whisky from Jamie’s hip flask. Out here the silence was deafening and with no light pollution they would marvel at just how many stars were visible. If they were really lucky they would see the Milky Way or even catch a glimpse of the whispery, balletic dance of the Northern Lights. And there they would sit, warmed by the peaty whisky and the heat from each other’s bodies. Jamie would look at this milky-skinned fairy next to him and wonder what he had done to deserve such a woman as Claire.

***

One Saturday in Spring, only a few months into their relationship, the weather had been unseasonably mild so they decided to sleep in the back of the Land Rover. Snuggled under countless duvets and blankets, they watched the night sky pointing out constellations and counting shooting stars.

Later that night Jamie slid himself up against her, making sure there was not even a sliver of a gap between them. She nestled herself into him as he draped his arm over her and cupped her breast. They lay peacefully, breathing each other in, curled up like life-sized commas, a symbol perhaps of a contented pause but also a sign that there was so much more to come. Falling asleep like that they woke a few hours later, bodies coursing with desire. Tongues darting around hungrily, they kissed and grabbed and unclothed each other hurriedly. Then they slowed down, stroking and kissing, enjoying each other’s bodies languorously, licking, sucking, nipping and teasing. And when they could bear it no longer, their climaxes brought with them the tiny, hot fireworks behind their eyes and the familiar thrum of orgasm buzzing along every synapse in their bodies. They lay there tangled up in each other, a sated, unintelligible ball of naked flesh and limbs. And smooth, soft skin.

Heaving a contented sigh he moved his face close to hers, noses almost touching and looked into her eyes.

Claire couldn’t help but blink, she felt as though his eyes were burrowing into hers, seeking out the stories and secrets that were as yet untold. What was he looking for? Was he trying to search the very recesses of her soul? Whatever it was she didn’t care, because when she was with him, she felt as though things were just as they should be. And she knew she would never keep anything from him. Her eyes began to flicker as the salt water sprang to the surface under the weight of his stare. 

This wasn’t their first time but somehow that evening, their intimacy seemed to bring with it a quiet realisation for both of them.

After a tiny eternity Jamie broke the intense silence, “Claire, I ken it’s not been that long since we started seeing each other. But I canna help but feel that this is it for me.” He paused, perhaps a little worried that what he was saying might overwhelm her. But he felt instinctively that he could tell her his innermost thoughts and she would never judge him. Doubts dissolving as quickly as they had formed, he continued. 

“It’s as if I’ve been wandering this life Claire. Not unhappily, no, I’ve been content, I have a good life ye ken? But what I mean is, that I feel as though perhaps I hadna realised that I was a little lost and I wasn’t really _living_ my life, until, well until you came into it. And I find that with each day we’re together, I love you more than I did the day before. And well, to me Sassenach, ye feel like home.” He stroked her arm with the slightest, feather-weight touch. 

Claire’s amber eyes sparkled (he could swear they were made of molten sunshine), the tears pooling and threatening to spill over. How was it that he managed to articulate everything she had been thinking herself? She knew exactly what it was to feel a little lost despite having a good life. To feel a little untethered and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt as happy as she had these last few months, with him. And home, yes home, that was _just_ how Jamie felt to her, like the home she never had. _Until now_.

“Oh Jamie,” she sighed happily, “ _yes I do ken_ ,” she smirked, imitating his accent. And then her face softened as she continued in a hushed tone, “and you feel like home to me.”

***

Leaving Jamie had been particularly difficult that Sunday, knowing that _he_ was where she wanted to be. 

“It’s only five days my Sassenach,” he whispered softly in her ear, running his fingers through her curls and stroking her cheek lightly. 

When they kissed goodbye she clung to him fiercely, her grip as tight as that of a limpet on the rocks of the shore. She clamped her eyes shut and wished for this moment to never end. And then, resigned, she climbed into her car and wept all the way back to Glasgow, feeling as if she had been cleaved in two. The one half of her back up in the Highlands happily snuggled with her red-headed Scot and the other, distraught half travelling back to her job and her responsibilities. 

On Tuesday, Claire was returning to her flat after a particularly difficult shift. She dragged her weary bones up the stairs and unlocked the door, yawning loudly. The only thing keeping her from throwing herself on the sofa to sleep was the lure of a hot shower and hot food.

As she stepped over the mail on her doormat, she noticed a small packet with familiar handwriting. Intrigued, she tore it open and pulled out a letter. Something fell out of the packet and landed on the floor with a satisfying clunk. It was an ornate key, chunky and old by the looks of it, she bent down to pick it up. Turning it over in her hand, she appreciated the satisfying weight and ran her fingers over the grooves and burrs that time had worn into it. 

Claire opened the letter to find Jamie's distinctive and elegant writing:

_My Sassenach_

_The moment I found ye I lost myself._

_Up until that point I had honestly believed I had everything I needed to be happy. My family nearby, a home and a job I love. Life was good and I thought I was content. But on that snowy day when I saw ye for the first time, my measured, routine life gently fell apart. And nothing from that life I knew so well before made sense anymore. The moment I saw those whisky coloured eyes of yours, that old me was gone._

_I kent straight away that I wanted ye, that there was no way I could let ye go._

_And now my Sassenach, I am found, for ye are my home, and I am yours._

_I wanted to give you something to remind you of home and I remembered the key to Lallybroch. We don’t use these keys anymore, they are antiques that once opened the locks to the original gates of the estate. Before Da died, he left one to Jenny and Ian and the other to me. And now I am giving it to ye, so that ye ken ye’ll always have a home with me and ye’ll always have a home at Lallybroch._

_I love ye so much Claire. So much that I cannot fathom my life without you in it. And I’m counting down the seconds until I see you again on Friday._

_Yours forever,_

_Jamie x_

  
Clutching the letter to her chest, Claire grabbed her phone and rushed over to her desk. Frantically opening drawers and tins, she searched through her craft supplies and switched her phone to speaker mode, setting it down on the desk. Her tears made it difficult to see what she was looking for but when she finally found the leather cord, she cut a length off and deftly strung the key onto it, knotting it as she hung it around her neck.

She had forgotten how late it was, so when Jamie answered, she was slightly surprised to hear that his voice was a little gruff and laced with sleep. 

Turning the key over and over in her hand, her words spilled out, the tears now falling freely. She told him how she had resolved right there and then, to speak to her boss tomorrow. That they didn’t need to consider a life without each other anymore.

That tomorrow she would be going _home_. Home to Jamie. 


End file.
